


I'll Kiss Your Open Sores

by everest_tayla



Series: Captiv(e)ate [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hostage Situations, Joker (DCU) Played by Heath Ledger, Kidnapping, Movie: The Dark Knight (2008), One Shot, Rough Sex, Scars, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everest_tayla/pseuds/everest_tayla
Summary: The Joker's got a play thing...
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Captiv(e)ate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943035
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	I'll Kiss Your Open Sores

Holly awoke to the sounds of muffled voices in heated discussion. Opening her eyes, she saw the bedroom was still dark, aside from the soft light from the flat screen on the wall. Pretty Woman had restarted again since she'd fallen asleep, Richard Gere asking a blonde Julia Robert's for directions.

She yawned, rubbing sleep from her eyes before feeling around blindly through the silk sheets entangled around her. She found the remote, muting the volume on the tv. 

The voices were easier to hear now, though it was still hard to pinpoint exactly what was being said. 

Her skin prickled when she heard him. His flamboyant gravelly tone could be mimicked by no one. And he was pissed. The inflections in his speech, his manic laughter. All the other voices had been silenced. I guess they knew better than to talk over him. 

She fiddled with the bedding, pulling at threads with her fingers.

_Should I pretend to be asleep?_

She didn't have time to decide. He came barging into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He strode to the chair at the vanity as he muttered to himself in frenzied bursts.

"If you want something done right, do it yourself...ah yes yes.."

He didn't acknowledge her presence, sitting on the chair and turning the lamp on at the vanity desk. He began removing the various knives and weapons from his purple coat pockets one by one and placing them on the desk, still muttering to himself.

Holly was half-sitting up, frozen. She glanced at the clock on the night stand. 4.08am. He was never back this early. 

She gasped as he suddenly belted his fist down against the desk in three harsh bursts, the sound of glass shattering.

_Should I say something? No, don't say anything. He hasn't even noticed you're in the room yet._

He was prone to sudden outbursts. In fact, they seemed to be the basis of his personality. She'd come to learn some of his triggers, certain questions that couldn't be asked unless she wanted to be threatened with a knife. But he'd still shock her at least twice a day. A simple phrase, word, or action could jolt him into a rampage within a split second. 

Yeah, best to be quiet for now.

He'd shrugged off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the top half of his chest. She could see fresh blood between his knuckles from his recent outburst. Some old and fresh wounds on chest.

He got up from the chair and strode to the ensuite, a passing look in her direction with unfocused eyes before disappearing into the bathroom, door slamming shut behind him.

She waited for the sound of the shower running before slipping from the bed. She grabbed a silk robe from the closet and wrapped it around herself, covering the shirt she was wearing underneath.

She scooped up his discarded coat and hung it up with the others. She left the knives in their place, knowing better than to touch them. She opened the bedroom door and crept out into the hall, making her way to the kitchen.

A few of his goons sat around a small circular table playing cards as she walked in. They all quickly looked away, careful to not acknowledge her in any way.

She went to the cupboard and grabbed two bowls, filling each with water. She then grabbed the elaborate first aid kit from underneath the sink, holding it underneath her chin as she juggled everything back to the bedroom. She could hear the goons resume their chatter as she left. 

He was still in the shower when she returned. She placed the bowls of water on the large desk, grabbing bandages, stitches, needle, thread, and rubbing alcohol from the kit. She also took some clean wash cloth's from the closet.

Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap as she waited for him.   
Her stomach anxiously churned a little when she heard the water switch off.

Holly had lost count of how long she'd been here. 6 months maybe? It was hard to say. If she knew her first day working at Gotham Bank would have involved being robbed at gunpoint, taken hostage and being held captive by the Joker, she would have just called in sick. 

He came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, greasy green-tinged hair wet and dripping down his shoulders. His build was deceptively toned underneath the get up, the taunt muscles of a subtle six pack winking against the shadows of his pale skin. His wrinkled greasepaint had worn off around the edges of his face but hadn't been washed off properly in the shower. He lounged against the chair, glancing at the bowls on the desk. His eyes remained unfocused, like he was running a marathon inside of his head.

He lazily held out his arm towards her. She quickly got up from the bed and grabbed the small stool that had been tucked away underneath the vanity, sitting in front of him. She observed his outstretched arm, cautiously tracing the deep laceration around his forearm that still bled. She proceeded to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol, patting it with a cloth. He didn't react, gaze still entranced by something she couldn't see.

She began stitching it up. She'd followed his instructions with shaky hands the first time she had done this for him. She was still no expert, but she didn't think he cared enough to correct her. Besides, he hadn't acquired gangrene from her amateur medical treatments yet.

She snipped the thread when she was finished, now analyzing his chest for any stab or gunshot wounds. Instead she found a scrape on his shoulder, bruising on his ribs, and small fragments of shrapnel embedded into the skin of his bicep. She picked up the tweezers and zeroed-in on the area, carefully picking out the tiny shards.

She found the process to be a welcome distraction from the tension that had been brewing underneath him, although he seemed to be more at ease now, for him anyway. After removing the last piece she disinfected the area. 

When she went to clean the cuts on his knuckles, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. 

Without argument she packed up the first aid kit and squeezed out the bloody rag into one of the bowls before moving them aside. 

She then sat there silently, waiting for him to become present again. 

He ran a hand through his damp shoulder-length hair, bringing it to her attention. Up close at the roots, the colour was a dirty blonde. Through the lengths there was tendrils of rust until eventually turning a toxic waste green towards the ends. 

He looked at her then. Noticing her observing him, tilting his head to the side slightly as if to view her from another angle. 

He smacked his dry lips together, pulling her out of her daze. She met his eyes, her anxiety creeping back in. 

_What side of him would be coming out tonight?,_ she wondered. 

He ran a tongue over his slightly stained teeth, considering her through dark pupils. She held her breath, never knowing what was to come.

He then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands, eyebrows raised expectantly.

She nearly breathed a sigh of relief. No mind games or violence. Not yet anyway. 

She commenced with their routine, grabbing a clean cloth and dipping it into the bowl of clean water. She then scooted closer to him, raising the cloth to his face slowly as if not to startle an untamed stallion. He didn't break eye contact when the wet cloth met his forehead. She gently rubbed circles with it, removing the badly creased paint that had softened slightly from the hot steam of the shower. White paint and dirt stuck to the cloth before she squeezed it out into the bowl and went for his eyes. 

She tentatively stroked the black circles around the socket, waiting for him to shut them. With a smirk, he eventually fluttered them closed, allowing her to wipe the black off his lids. She could never get it all off, his lower waterline always retaining some of the ink.

Next was his cheeks and the red smeared smile. She was always nervous about this area. Always worried she'd irritate the heavy scarring and disfigurement underneath with too much pressure. The scars looked so painful. Even though healed in the deformed shape of a mangled smile, the puckered and swollen skin made her wince as she swept the cloth over them. He continued to stare at her, an amused crinkle cradling his eyes as he observed her tenderness. Like his scars would reopen in bloody gashes if she pressed too hard. 

She managed to remove most of the makeup from the main features of his face. She then dipped the clean edge of the rag and used it to wipe away any small areas she'd missed. 

The white noise of the muted television and sounds of their breathing were the only stirrings in the otherwise silent room. The silence on top of his unrelenting gaze began to unnerve her, making her sweat underneath the robe she was wearing.

She cleared her throat, keeping her voice low and casual.

"You're home early."

The uncut portion of his lips twitched upwards. 

"Am I?"

His voice had lost its' high-octane flamboyant edge, now gravelly and low. 

She nodded nonchalantly, pretending to be super focussed on the task at hand. 

"Rough night?"

"It was a doozy", he said with mild sarcasm.

His mood didn't appear to be too sour, which was probably better for her. 

The removal of his makeup seemed to be the intimate ritual that would ground him back to earth, bringing them closer together in whatever freaky way it did. If he planned on causing her harm, he'd usually keep the paint on, retaining his manic persona.

Though thoroughly scarred and a little unkempt, underneath the makeup he was handsome. Youthful. Striking. An almost boyish charm about him. Without the black painted circles camouflaging them, his dark chocolate brown eyes were more distinctive and human-looking. 

"No matter", he mumbled.

She could feel his breath on her chin. 

He knew she could feel his breath on her chin.

She cleared her throat again, making a show off pulling the rag away and rinsing it in the bowl.

"You're all done."

She stood, only for him to grab her wrist.

"Come si-t."

He gestured to his legs. She swallowed a sigh, sitting on his lap awkwardly like a child would on Santa at the mall. He cradled an arm around her lower back, using his other hand to lightly stroke up and down her exposed legs.

He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck, sighing contentedly.

"I missed you today doll."

_Hmm, in a good mood then_. Unless he was messing with her.

She tried her luck, grazing her hand up his shoulder and leaning her body against his.

"Really?"

"Mm..."

He brought his face back in sight, looking up at her fondly as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"So did I", she said.

It was a half truth. She simultaneously pined for and dreaded his return. She never knew what side of him she'd get, and a majority of them terrified the fuck out of her.

But he was the only human interaction she was permitted. Flesh and blood she could touch or talk to. 

She leaned her temple on his shoulder, inhaling his scent at the nape of his neck. He smelt of musk, pine soap, ash and gasoline. He leaned back into the chair, humming softly. The vibration of his throat felt warm and reassuring, even if moments like this were fleeting.

She rested her hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against her palm.

For someone so unstable, he felt solid and unwavering.

These moments of comfort were far and few between. She could imagine they were reunited lovers who found solace in each other's arms. Sometimes she didn't even have to pretend.

With his exposed throat laid bare, a sliver of bravery shot through her. She let her mouth brush against his pulse point, earning a soft hum of approval from the unusually relaxed J.

"You feel nice", he exhaled. 

She looked up to see his eyes closed and a lazy grin stretched across his face, scars pulling at the sides.

She sat up to adjust her position, moving to straddle him. He didn't object, resting his palm languidly on her upper thighs. This new posture allowed her to view his face freely, gently caressing his wirey cheekbones. She traced his scars with the pads of her fingertips, the rough tissue tingling underneath her touch.

"I like you like this", she murmured under her breath, slightly in awe of him.

"Hm?", he mumbled distractedly, gaze heavy-lidded 

She brushed her lips over the puckered skin, taking her time so that every portion of his disfigurement felt the softness of her mouth. She slowly trailed over his lips to the opposite scar, making sure it received an equal amount of attention.

"Bareskinned. Raw", she whispered against the healed lacerations.

She lightly threaded her tongue between the grooves and craters of the scar tissue, leaving a trail of cooling saliva.

"You said my name in your sleep last nigh-t", he said, eyes closed contentedly.

She stiffened.

"Did I?" Her attempt at nonchalance sounded squeaky.

"Musta been top notch."

She fought a stammer. "Uhh, I can't remember..."

His eyes opened to give a fixed stare, the hands on her thighs dug in slightly. Not enough to hurt, but it was a warning.

"Tell me", his tone had an edge. 

She swallowed. "I- I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

He gave a sharp laugh. "Toots, you're only making me wanna know more."

"I- I don't know exactly...we were together and..."

"Yes?", he clipped.

"We were covered in each other's blood...and kissing..."

His grip relaxed to circle around the backs of her thighs, giving her butt a soft squeeze through her robe. 

"Mm...what else", he demanded darkly.

"Then you started eating my tongue...and I liked it", she admitted.

"Oooo, tell me more."

He gave her hips a subtle pull towards him so she could feel his growing hardness underneath his towel.

"I was pulling apart your scars and crawling inside your skin. I'd become apart of you...inside you", she breathed.

"Such a gruesome little thing you are."

He brought their mouths together in a slow sensual kiss, sucking and licking at her like a starving animal. His grazed the roof of her mouth and insides of cheeks before lashing at her teeth and gums, staking claim of every molecule that made up the entirety of the portal behind her lips.

He roughly detached, tilting her jaw so his now blackened eyes were locked with hers.

"I guess you'll have to settle for me inside you instead."

He untangled the cord of her robe between them, pulling the garment open to reveal her long, oversized purple nightshirt.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that mine?"

She nodded shyly.

"Stealing my clothes now..."

She gave a shrug. "It smells like you."

"If you wanted me ah, draped across your body doll, why didn't ya just ask?"

She threaded her fingers into his damp hair, letting her nails graze his scalp before tugging at the strands. He complied, allowing his head to be tugged back. Her face hovered above his, an inch of space between their lips. Their breaths intertwined, the heat from his slightly ajar mouth filtering into hers. 

She wanted to devour and be devoured. Wanted her flesh eviscerated by his stained teeth, her organs digested in the acid of his soul. 

He flicked his tongue out against his bottom lip.

"Take what you want baby doll", he drawled.

Her mouth crashed against his with a sickening moan. His arms came around her like the viper he was, squeezing her to his body tightly. Their teeth clashed with the jarring sound of bone and enamel meeting head on. His bottom lip was snagged, the coppery taste of blood intensifying animalistic cravings that coiled inside her. He growled, jutting his hips upward whilst moving her against him. The friction stirred her on, sliding her tongue past his molars to relish the flavour of him. He tasted of sour candy and gun powder, the tang only enhanced when he slithered his tongue against hers.

A gutteral keen was unearthed from deep within her, a hand roughly digging into his shoulder for support as she ground against his hardness with a new sense of purpose. The delicious friction began to burn against her core in the best way possible. 

The interlacing of their mouths severed when the rhythm of her hips became ragged, her forehead resting against his. Her eyes were squeezed shut at the searing need for release, soft whimpers tumbling from her throat like a mewling kitten. 

He stared up at her strained expression through heavy lids, debating whether to draw this out or watch her come apart. The pressure in his own groin was beginning to build, causing the jolt of his hips to become sloppy and erratic.

He moved a hand to her grip her jaw forcefully, pressing his thumb to her plump bottom lip. 

"Suc-k", he urged bluntly.

She opened, sucking his calloused finger into her mouth with a groan. She fiddled with it between her teeth, an unspoken threat looming between them. 

An evil grin spliced across his face.

"I dare you."

Her eyes opened to stare down at him, her pupils heavily dilated. She pressed lightly, just a touch.

"Do it."

She did. She bit down, breaking the skin on the pad of his thumb. He growled, pulling her hips down roughly against his with a flex of his groin.

She cried out, releasing his finger to throw her head back in ecstasy. Whines tumbled from her mouth as she came apart. The shockwaves ignited tendrils of acidic venom, burning their way from her core to carve trails of lightening throughout her body.

There was no blissful come down. 

He moved them to the floor, her back on the plush green rug before her orgasm had left her body completely. 

The towel on his hips had disappeared, his length eager for contact.

He tore her underwear off, dragging the black calvin's down her legs. He didn't bother with the purple shirt, liking the idea of fucking her while she still wore his clothing.

Her legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord before he abruptly entered her to the hilt. Her overly sensitized core throbbed at the swift invasion as she clawed at the rug underneath her, spine arching. 

"My turn", he rasped against her neck.

He pulled out slowly, before thrusting into her again until he was fully sheathed by her warmth. He entered into a steady rhythm until his movements grew more urgent. He gathered her hands above her head, locking her wrists together in a vice-like grip while his other hand seized her throat. He squeezed lightly, just enough for spots to dabble across her vision.

He grunted filthy things into her ear.

"Fuck, you're sublime doll. So...fuck-ing...tight around me."

He relentlessly pounded into her, but he didn't want this to end. Not yet. He wanted to savor the feeling of her tightly wrapped around him. 

He flipped them over suddenly, catching her by surprise as his movements seized.

She looked down at him, raising her eyebrow in question.

"Move", he commanded softly.

Still connected, she sat up slightly to straddle him once again. She rested her palms on his abdomen as she began to roll her hips slowly. His placed his large hand at her hip bone and the other on the opposite thigh. To her surprise, he didn't force her to match his previous frantic pace. Instead, he rocked his hips in time with hers, slow and sensual. 

They never broke eye contact, the intensity of his gaze searing. The languid movement caused delicious stirrings inside of her, relishing the dreamy flecks of electricity that elicited throaty whimpers from her mouth.

She went to quicken the pace, but the clawing of his fingers into her hip bones prevented her. 

"Nice and slow doll...feel me..."

The stilted pace was creating fevered delirium within her core. She bowed forward to lean her hand next to his head, balancing her weight. Now her face was directly above his, tendrils of her hair hanging down and brushing his chin. Their eyes never wavered.

"Feel all of me...", he breathed.

She felt him throbbing inside of her.

He flexed his hips up harshly in surprise, causing her eyes to squeeze shut and her mouth to hang ajar before he went back to slowly rolling.

She moaned in frustration. "Please J...I need it..."

"What do you need?"

"Need you to fuck me. Need you to come inside me", she bit out through gritted teeth.

"All in good time."

He let go of her hips, giving her a warning glance. She resisted the primal urge to bounce up and down and milk his dick dry. 

He gathered up the hair hanging down beside her face in his hands, looping it roughly at the nape of her neck with a fist. His free hand then travelled to her throat, holding her weight whilst gently squeezing the column of her neck.

"Stop."

She stilled the slow movements of her hips, waiting for further instruction.

"You'll want to move. Don't. Not until I tell you too", he wickedly grinned. 

In a spur of action she couldn't see, he began fucking her hard and fast, the sound of hips slapping against hers. She desperately wanted to meet his thrusts, but she kept perfectly still. The only evidence was the sound of smacking flesh, his flexing abdominals and the quickening of his breath. The sheer force of his pounding brought her forward slightly. His hand tightened around her throat, heightening the debauched sensation of being used as a fucktoy.

The phenomenon of his cock shunting powerfully between her silken walls was like being encased in velvet.

The trembling moan he extracted from her was pure depravity. The red flush of her cheeks, her agape mouth, the droplet of spit dangling from her lip. She was art. Pure living breathing art.

"You can move now", he grunted.

She crinkled her eyes with relief as she met his thrust dead on, their rhythm creating the melody of panting breath, smacking flesh and carnal groans. He'd loosened the grip on her hair, causing the odd strand to float beside her face again. She could feel the grip on her throat guiding her forward and back, upwards and downwards. 

Her intake of oxygen was low, but she didn't care. Her head was floating while he grounded her body.

Whatever oxygen she could breath was coming directly from his open mouth. He was inside her. A part of her. In her bloodstream. Inside her lungs. Inside her cunt.

She wanted to watch him come underneath her, no longer caring to chase a second orgasm for herself. It was all about him. Wanting to please him. In anyway that she could.

She clenched her inner muscles down onto him as he thrusted his length up into her. 

A hoarse grunt left him in a rush as his eyes rolled back into his head before falling shut. Two more chaotic strokes and he was shaking against her, holding her core tightly to him. He head was thrown back into the rug, throat exposed to her.

She would have leaned down and bit him of he still hadn't been holding her tightly by her own neck. The corners of vision were starting to blur.

The corded muscles of his torso were flexed tightly underneath her palm before they eased, his hips coming down against the floor. Her vision was tunneled to his heaving chest, his hot breath wisping against her face.

Her eyes were closing now, the need to breath no longer feeling important. 

Almost as an afterthought, he released his grip. She fell flat against his chest, face buried into the rug beside his neck. She sucked in a lungful of air out of pure instinct. If she had control, she'd happily suffocate.

Holly managed to roll off him to lay on her back, still severely lightheaded. Deliriously high, unable to make sense of where she was or who she was with.

She felt herself slipping into delicious oblivion when she felt an arm lazily sling over her waist and mouth languidly sucking the side of neck before nuzzling her.

"You're just aces baby", he hummed against her ear, tracing the shell with his tongue.

She made a noise of agreement, struggling to find the energy to speak.

He nudged her cheek softly towards him with his fist, bringing her heavy-lidded gaze in his direction.

"You can leave whenever you want to. Y'know that right?", he rasped before pressing his lips to her third eye.

She smiled sleepily.

That was a lie. He knew it. She knew it. 

That theory had already been tested in the past.

But in that moment, they were just lovers. Nothing else. So she played along.

"Sure. But why would I want to do a thing like that?", she husked, bringing her hand up to burrow into his hair.

She felt his cragged smile against her forehead.

Stockholm syndrome or not, this was both her hell and her paradise. 


End file.
